


Many Happy Returns

by gottageekout



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor Deserves Happiness, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 02:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15257796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gottageekout/pseuds/gottageekout
Summary: In which Connor is a champion at office birthday parties, but never actually decided on a birthday himself.





	Many Happy Returns

**Author's Note:**

> You know when you have a Week and just need to write something happy? It's that kind of Week, guys.

Of all things, Connor found the secret in winning over most of the precinct by mastering the art of office parties.

 

It just so happened his first month as an actual police officer after their citizenship was affirmed was the busiest month of birthdays. The first one Connor had been a little puzzled by, and Hank had to sit there and stage-whisper how this was one of those things you just had to grin and bear so they could get back to work. Just ignoring it was apparently _unacceptable_ to him, because you could strip a lot of things away when you become deviant but taking everything _way_ more seriously than it needed to be was not one of them.

 

He’d spent that night figuring out what would be appropriate for the officer in question and came up with a gift he handed over the day after, all while apologizing for it being late. She took it gracefully, though she clearly was surprised. Not just because he was, well, who he was – they had never spoken to each other until then. Hank just sort of observed it all at the time, thinking it was a one-time quirk. Really fucking stupid assumption, as it turned out.

 

Months later, Connor had practically given a gift to almost the entire department. Even _Gavin_ , who for once seemed to realize he had to either accept the gift it or be labeled an absolute asshole by the numerous people Connor (purposely) gave the gift in front of. Despite his obvious plan to irritate him by being _nice_ , he’d made sure to pick out something he’d correctly guessed Gavin would like. He spent the entire rest of his day pissed he was given a good gift.

 

(That was, in Hank’s humble opinion, the _best_ fucking office party he’d ever been a part of.)

 

Unsurprisingly, people responded to what was undeniably sincere friendliness. Hank had given up pointing out he really _didn’t_ need to do as much as he did because he’d always wave the concern away. That tendency built into him to want to make people happy had just become an _inherent quality_ of his personality. He didn’t have to, but he wanted to, and fuck if it wasn’t charming people as a side bonus.

 

Hank was glad people were starting to see what he had seen once he got his head out of his ass. The android-now-person who was still living in his house and had managed to upend his entire fucking life in ways he hadn’t known possible because this was how he was with _everything_. Hell, there were moments he admittedly found himself worried Connor would realize he’d attached himself to an old asshole when there were so many people even in their job that matched his personality, but that moment never came. He’d seemed perfectly content being with someone who was his utter complete opposite. The feeling (which he knew was jealousy, he couldn’t even deny it) only got worse when their relationship got more… _interesting_.

 

He’d eventually just chose to be glad that was the case, since Connor never wavered, not even for a moment. He’d fucked up enough of his relationships to let his shitty brain mess what they had up, too.

 

“Your partner’s putting all of us to shame,” Williams had commented once, leaning against Hank’s desk as they observed him getting hugged – _hugged!_ – by one of the female rookies. He’d come a long way, really, and it’d hit the point now that it felt like most people forgot he was any different from anyone else.

 

“You got a problem with it?” he’d asked, eying the man. Williams made a gesture of putting his hands up slightly, signaling he hadn’t meant it in a bad way.

 

“Easy, just thinking out loud. Guy’s a good dude, that’s all I’m saying,” he’d shrugged, stating the obvious. “Did you have him put his birthday on the calendar yet?”

 

That had been the moment Hank realized he was an absolute asshole. The question hadn’t ever entered his mind until then, even though he knew the date _had_ to be rapidly approaching. After all, it was getting close to a year since they met and, though he vaguely had remembered the conversation, he _did_ think Connor mentioned an earlier case before he’d been unceremoniously made into his partner.

 

He knew he had to ask, even if some part of him worried it might be rude to ask the day he was fucking turned on or whatever. Took a few days to broach the topic before he decided he was overthinking it, like he usually did. In the dark of their bedroom that night, with Connor curled against him, face buried against his bare chest. They’d been like that a little while, though Hank couldn’t quite get himself to relax and unwind enough to sleep.

 

It seemed like as good a time as any to ask.

 

“You awake?” he asked, not quite sure if he’d gone into stasis mode yet do his usual nightly maintenance. It was as close to passing out next to him as he was ever going to get. In the dark, he could see the yellow light of his LED ease back into blue. A few moments later, he shifted away enough to look at him.

 

“I was just finishing preparations,” he replied, and Hank could just barely make out the curious look he had on his face. “Is something the matter?”

 

“No, not really,” he answered, honestly. Wasn’t any kind of problem at all, in fact. “I just remembered, I’ve been meaning to tell you to add your birthday to the calendar. Williams mentioned it wasn’t there.”

 

Something interesting happened then. He saw that light go back to yellow. At first, he thought he was remotely accessing that shit and doing what he asked, but no. It just stayed that way. That kind of thing usually only happened when something was bothering him. He just patiently waited for him to answer.

 

“…I’d considered it, but I don’t really have one,” he explained, finally. Which he would’ve understood if not for the fact he wasn’t quite looking at him for some reason now. He didn’t need to be a fucking mind reader to know there was something more to this discussion than just picking a date.  “I suppose I could use the first day I remember being functional. But –“

 

“But?”

 

He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling a breath he hadn’t even needed to take. “…It ended unpleasantly, and I was quickly deactivated after.”

 

Right.

 

Fucking CyberLife.

 

“Well, fuck that date, then,” he said, bluntly. “There’s other dates you could pick, anyway.”

 

Connor paused, with a look that very much hinted that no, he had never considered another day. It had been the most obvious choice, and Hank knew sometimes he tended to get stuck on that. Too fucking literal. It wasn’t his fault, it's how this shit usually worked, right? At least with humans. But he wasn't one, so why get hung up on that?

 

“I mean, shit, I can think of another day,” he continued, suddenly feeling very good about the prospects of him liking this.

 

“Which?” Connor asked, not following him.

 

“November tenth,” he said, the date always going to be fucking etched in his head anyway.

 

It clicked immediately, and his eyebrows furrowed. “When I became –?“

 

“You,” he finished, nodding in confirmation. He didn’t even like the word deviant anymore. They were being treated like shit, so they acted in response. Nothing wrong with that. “Or entirely you, anyway. Yeah, a lot of shit happened then too, but – at least that was all you and not someone telling you what to do.”

 

Connor seemed to mull it over, though eventually a smile slowly spread across his features. “I didn’t even think about that. Do you think that’d be okay?”

 

Hank snorted. Like there were even fucking _rules_ about this. “I mean, shit, Connor, you could just point to a calendar and pick a day you like if you wanted, no one’s going to care. But if it were me? That’s the day I know I’d pick. And if people ask, you have a reason behind it. Problem solved.”

 

The light eased back to blue. Hank would always be quietly thankful for the fucking mood ring in his head. Connor cupped his jawline, drawing him to him to kiss him.

 

“I like it,” he murmured as he rested his head against Hank’s and he could see how happy he was. The kid would kill him someday with how damn earnest he was sometimes.

 

“…Has this seriously been bothering you for a while?” he asked, raising a brow.

 

Connor looked mildly embarrassed but nodded. “On and off. I’d stopped trying when I realized the only date that came to mind wouldn’t be associated with anything good. I know you’re probably thinking it’s a little pointless I got hung up on this at all.”

 

Yeah, Hank was an ass. How _had_ he not thought to bring this up until now? Of course Connor would assume it wasn’t something he’d give a shit about. “Hey, no, it’s – I don’t think it’s pointless. I think _office parties_ are, but that’s because I’m not the social goddamn butterfly you are.”

 

He could see Connor’s lip twitch up in a smile at that. Fucker.

 

“But it’s still important. Fuck, mine is coming up and it’s the first one in a while I’m glad I’ll be seeing,” he admitted. Shit, he was so blackout drunk he didn’t even remember last year’s besides waking up on the ground not unlike Connor had found him. Washed up and given up. Never would’ve called someone like Connor would’ve snapped him out of it. “Shitty office party and all. And now you get one too. You’ll be the first person I actually get something for, congratulations.”

 

Connor let out soft laugh, clearly pleased with that. He saw his LED blip yellow briefly and Hank had a feeling he knew what would be on the calendar tomorrow, proudly among the rest of the birthdays of the members of the precinct.

 

“Will it be appropriate for work?” he asked airily, and there it was, his rare shit-eating grin that Hank swore he only shot his way. Hank felt his face grow a bit hot.

 

“Fuck, Connor, of course it would be,” he said, semi-amused and semi-exasperated. What a fucking question.

 

“I'm detecting a noticeable rise in your temperature right now. Interesting,” he hummed as shifted and carefully fitted himself against him again, his head ducking to rest underneath his chin. “I realize gift giving can be difficult, so I am happy to assist you by giving you wider parameters. If you wished to give me something private, I wouldn’t be upset. That’s all.”

 

That’s all, he said, with an amount of casual indifference that he knew Connor was equal parts being honest while also _very purposely_ fucking with him. Hank exhaled a breath, shaking his head.

 

“I think I’ll be fine coming up with something,” he reassured dryly.

 

He didn’t need to see Connor’s face to know he was still smiling. “Looking forward to it.”

 

* * *

 

(He got _two_ gifts for him that first year.

 

One was, in fact, given to him in private.)


End file.
